Finally. I begin to feel normal again. I feel the routine of our new family life settling into a calmer motion -meaning slower more fulfilling days. She is well and healthy. Her name is Gabrielle and like my other daughter, she has a subtle Mexican complexion to her features. (One little, two little, three little, FOUR little Mexicans.. some of whiicchh are bblllooonndddee.. and-blue-eyed.)

As for EBAY, I finally got a steady handle on the book keeping aspect of it. I accomplished this by watching free multiple tutorials on youtube. The most helpful to start with was a spread sheet tutorial template by LINDEY GLENN. Next, I printed myself mileage sheets for tracking gas to and from thrift stores/post offices. I also began keeping and organizing all receipts/ thrift and shipping supplies. For tax purposes.

I SHUT DOWN MY ETSY. It was going nowhere and I didn’t enjoy the selling platform at all.

So instead, I now consign my crochet OWLS, SKULLS and NARWHALES at a LOCAL craft and art store in Wasilla called Whimsical Wicks and Gifts. They do already have other crochet artists covering wearing accessories and such so that leaves me a large chunk of handmade inventory to be selling at small (AND ENJOYABLE) craft fairs throughout the winter season. I already have a plethora of mug cozies, baby items plus small crocheted dolls and toys.

Where writing is concerned, I had all but come to a complete stop while in my later days of pregnancy. I was overwhelmed with physical stress, gestational diabetes and lack of sleep. Like a bull though, I did push through. I handled a strict diet. I continued to steadily care for my three children on my own. AND the month before giving birth was my highest sales month on ebay so far. I did alright.

FINALLY THOUGH -I can settle down and tackle my goals at full strength. Really, I am incredibly happy and READY. I’m ready.


the intensity of having nightmares when pregnant go like this

I have fallen into a ritual of writing. FINALLY! What an accomplishment!

Only, as eager as I am to wake up before everyone else and get to writing or reading, some mornings I just can’t clear my mind to actually write. I’m going to go easy on myself this morning considering I “nightmared” all night last night.

My kids spent the night over at a relatives, so naturally I was anxious. I can’t remember my exact dream except I was trapped somewhere with them in a maze like area trying to escape. A waist high imp was teasing us, torturing us with terror methods into staying or getting lost and turning around. In my dream I had decided on a daring move -I tricked him. I don’t remember how but once he realized it, he was furious. He managed to turn himself around in the maze of our hell and charge us. I hadn’t intended to do what I did next.

When he jumped out at us screaming in rage -I tore his eyes out. As he writhed in pain, we managed to escape. Still, however I woke up in terror. My chest hurt and my heart was pounding.

It only took a moment for me to realize that my chest didn’t hurt because I was scared. It hurt because he was sitting on it.. in my bed.. looking down at me with bleeding eye holes and smiling.

THAT’S when I woke up for real.

This intense pregnancy dreaming is for the birds.

The wind is still howling.

baby hill
(this my baby hill)

Part 2: From the Dark #wattpad

Like a child with a frightening wound, I tried to shriek. It was an animal I heard back in my own distinct echo.

Slowly while gasping, I began to pry at the corner of an eye with my fingers. I found that each eyelid was only lightly attached to the other, but to part them meant to tear at my own skin.

Blood mingled with tears and I sobbed.

Read here:

Yesterday, I spent two hours of my early day light savings time smoothing over the structural skeleton of PART TWO and published it on wattpad. It is still early within my time at wattpad, so I haven’t attained any personal accomplishments or meaningful social connects I crave (ones in relation to a writing community) BUT it is a wonderful exercise for my brain. It should give me the momentum I need to finish this story.

The skeleton is already laid out for me. I just need to put the meat on it’s bones and smooth out the skin.

I have found the book clubs! I have YET to join one.. I am slightly turned off by the structure of those that require you to follow, comment and vote on works by the admins for membership approval. Although I have to remind myself.. I’m sure most ladders to success are fixed as rigidly as that.

—MEANWHILE IN ALASKA the wind has been hell. Its been pushing snow up to my front door and hard packing it. For a few hours in the afternoon we get a little sunlight so things briefly melt. This turns my hard packed snow into a glacier setting. I have to open my door and step up with care to cross. I’m pregnant, but even I can’t begin to ask the elderly maintenance man with his shovel  to fix this..


The Dying Cycles a collection of poetry

Living after trauma and seeking the universe through nature. A collection of poetry.


‘For those living after trauma and seeking the universe through nature. A collection of poetry.’

Poem excerpt: MINNOWS

An ache tears into a memory
of your child hand reaching for minnows

Dark blue and small fingers

All those tiny universal dots of fish
we never caught them
and the search felt so infinite

You will lay in bed tonight
thinking again of the tiny silver lights
shattering into darker, deeper places
being the images of life that will escape you

A calm death is in us
Yours has begun to speak a whisper

I’ve heard this noise before,
laying on the dock
when the waves shuddered against us
black trees lent forward
and you watched me drink the water
before I cried for less

You’re scared now
As I was then

Dark blue

but in your hand,
is mine

and small fingers.

Continue reading “The Dying Cycles a collection of poetry”


THE MOTHER IN THE MIST a wattpad publication

  1. Here is the link to the story I wrote a year ago and am polishing up, rewriting the ending to and publishing in increments on wattpad.
    Free reading! Mature content warning.
    Sci-fi horror

    A host ship to several colonies of humans and aliens is attacked in deep space. Irreparably crippled, they float for years just barely maintaining life support. Their societies and collective sanities both deteriorate until finally, the last few of them are able to guide the ship into landing on an unknown planet. Their chaos then spills from the ship onto the surface as the survivors struggle to establish a settlement on land. Waiting to greet them though, is a paranormal creature far horrifying than anything they ever endured while in the hell of deep space and it comes with an unholy demand:
    (Dun dun dun duuunnnn)
    I’ll be posting every three days. If you would like to stay current on the story’s development, please feel free to sign up and add it to your library! Votes for the story also bump it up in the popular reading lists.

There is nothing more stilling..

..helplessness can feel like uselessness and stumble downwards from there into a pit of questionable existential nothingness.


These past days have been hard. Particularly hard.

I’ve been sad and morose in my energies.

I feel that this is can be somewhat equitable, though, to the weather. We have had a harsh freeze descend in Alaska. On a day that I had to go to the bank, my long winter coat couldn’t suffice against the -23 weather. I had to wear a thick bathrobe on top of a knit sweater under my coat. The young man at the bank scoffed at our local forecast and informed me that out by the lake he woke up to -35 below. Most things in Alaska can be boiled down to competition, endurance being our proudest sport.

And then

Before the freeze was over, my uncle passed away in his sleep. Cold.

Everything “..moves forward while your soul tears backwards.”

We know that he missed a pancake breakfast at his church in town. His neighbor called on his cabin to discover my uncle wasn’t feeling well. The neighbor had offered to take him to the hospital but my uncle had refused, insisting that no hospital could help him. By the next morning, my uncle was gone.

Initially, I didn’t know how to process the news. I picked up my yarn and started a new blanket. (the stitch was… sc, hdc, dc, all in one then skip two and repeat) I was up well past midnight loosing myself in the methodical meditation. There really is no immediate closure to be had upon the news of death. I realized I was also particularly afraid of being unable to mend the grief of others. Helplessness can feel like uselessness and stumble downwards from there into a pit of questionable existential nothingness.

As a consideration from God though, the weather did ease before the day of the funeral. We had been massively dumped on with the most amount of snow to be seen all winter collectively but the temperatures did warm. My Uncle’s best friend, a man almost more large and grizzly than him, ended the service by low singing a hymn of blues unto the lord.

It rained afterwards. The rain came upon us overnight and stopped by morning. The rising temperatures defeated us also as the top layer of snow melted and froze. My driveway right now, is dangerous. I had a man stop by earlier to buy a vintage hand made sock monkey I listed on fb marketplace and he almost fell before he made it to my door.

The weather in Alaska is cruel.

The danger in this cruelty is that it is also beautiful.



Good morning and good year!

Although I’ve been mentally planning for two weeks now on how I want to create an online presence for myself, I still find this an incredibly anxious venture.



                         Once my eyes were open, the chill seemed to settle intolerably.

So my first entry. Although I’ve been mentally planning for two weeks now on how I want to create an online presence for myself, I still find this an incredibly anxious venture. I’ve listened to a multitude of podcasts focusing on how to create a successful etsy business and all of them emphasized on the importance of exposure through various forms of multi media. Number one, pinterest was stressed. Reference: Etsy Conversations podcast

I suppose I need to take lots of pictures of product and have my etsy ready first.

But then! I discovered podcasts by Michael Hyatt stressing furthermore the importance of having something of a home base that people can refer to in order to connect with on a sort of personal level, if I understood that right. Ultimately, I began to overwhelm myself with this seemingly giant spiderweb of an evolving to do list. I realize though, that I do need a blog.

I need to not only create social exposure for my products, but I need the therapy of writing which I have long been neglecting. I have not submitted poetry for publish in over a year. I personally felt peaked for a minute last year. I was a guest speaker on a radio show that in the prior week had hosted my absolute FAVORITE poet of the state! To be acknowledged, to felt sought after and to be approached for discussion by anyone felt monumental. And then at that point for absolutely no reason I just stopped.

I have a stack of unread poetry. I have a larger stack of unfinished stories. And I am smothering myself in my own small bubble of a socially isolated world.

So now, for more reason than possible monetary gain, I want to blog. I hope this scheduled blogging will be an exercise in literary commitment to train my brain. I also hope to broaden my social horizon.

Isn’t that possible?